


Deluge

by kageygirl



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a weird way, this was Will's second first-shower-ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 3x14, "Metamorphosis."

Magnus's distaste for hovering tended to evaporate when she was the one doing the helicopter impression.

Will guessed that she'd argue about having medical concerns, if he ever let on that he'd noticed. Not that he ever would; he treasured those rare glimpses he got past the high walls of Castle Rationality, the little inconsistencies that made her all the more remarkable. But he'd be a lousy confidant if he went spilling what he saw, even--maybe especially--to the castle gatekeeper.

At any rate, he'd figured out that particular quirk of hers a while ago. So it came as no surprise that, when she finally gave in to his increasingly pathetic requests to be allowed to clean himself up, post-delizarding, she trailed him all the way to the infirmary shower room, watching his every step.

Not that he objected to being on the receiving end of her attention, not at all. He didn't remember the last stages of his transformation all that clearly--what with his _brain cells_ being mutated and all--but almost every moment that he could recall was tinged with a growing sense of loneliness, of desperate isolation. It would have been weird if he _hadn't_ developed a little post-traumatic separation anxiety.

As he stepped through the door, a prickly new-skin-growth itch ran up his forearm--the latest in what seemed to be an endless wave of them--and Will rubbed his palm over it, trying to quell the discomfort without doing any damage.

Magnus tracked the movement with her eyes, though she didn't give him the "no scratching" lecture this time. Instead, she said, "If you feel at all faint or dizzy, don't hesitate to press the call button."

"What about if I just want someone to scrub my back?" Will asked, his grin a little reckless.

He'd been having these moments, too, since he woke up, when the relief was so overwhelming it made him almost giddy. Or maybe it was something going around, because Magnus's first, unguarded reaction was a wide-open smile, though she narrowed her eyes at him right afterwards. "Feel free to try it and see what happens. As long as you're prepared to accept the consequences." Her look turned dangerous and suggestive at the same time, and she deliberately ran her gaze up his body before meeting his eyes again. " _All_ of them."

Oh, man, that look. He had zero defenses against that look. Will felt his neck getting hot, and he ducked his head, conceding the point to her.

Once she'd seen him to the shower cubicle, Magnus rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. "I'll be nearby," she said quietly, then turned and left the room, the door closing behind her with a hydraulic hiss.

He was almost surprised she'd agreed to this, as conservative as she'd been about the speed of his recovery, but Will suspected she understood the psychological urge to wash away the experience. As fun as the wall-crawling part had been, the trade-offs were miles away from worth it.

Plus, he'd pouted. The pout had clearly tipped the balance in his favor.

He turned on the shower right away, giving the old water heater a few seconds to kick in, and stripped off his grungy infirmary scrubs. Even the drag of fabric over his skin set off a fresh tide of itching, and Will clenched his fists, fighting the urge to scratch. He'd be in the shower soon enough, and speaking of--

He snatched his hand back from the stream of water, biting off a curse, and lowered the temperature several notches. Okay, currently oversensitive to heat. Good to know.

He tried again, and this time the water felt more like "cleansing" and less like "scalding." Not as hot as he usually liked it, but he figured not burning his newly re-humaned skin the first time out would be a good call. Especially if he wanted Magnus to ever let him out again.

Will stepped under the spray, and for a few overwhelming seconds he actually considered hitting that call button.

He'd had well-earned and badly needed showers before, of course--especially after he'd started working at the Sanctuary, where hardly a week went by without involving goo and/or sewers--but none of them had ever felt quite this amazing. Across his new skin, the warm water set off a deep, tingling burn, almost like a menthol rub. Will dropped his head and just let the water beat down on him for a minute, coursing through his hair, drumming against his shoulders, meandering over his back, his chest, his legs.

It took a few minutes and a lot of willpower to remind himself that if he stayed in there too long, Magnus was bound to come looking to make sure he hadn't passed out in the shower, and that wouldn't be at all humiliating or anything.

Will washed his hair, quickly but carefully, and then grabbed the soap. Okay, seriously, he'd never thought of _soap_ as a revelation before, but the slickness added a whole new dimension to the nerve stimulation already happening everywhere the water touched him. Will felt like a hedonist, enjoying the hell out of something so very ordinary.

And yet somehow, after all that, he was still surprised to find his cock already hard when he ran a soapy hand down past his stomach. He braced his right forearm against the wall, shuddering at the feel of his own palm. It was just this side of too much, and way, way too good to stop.

Even when it occurred to him to wonder what Magnus would think, if she saw him right now.

What would she do, if he did hit that call button? Rush in, and see him here, like this, and--would she glare? Would she turn and walk out?

Would she join in?

Would she step right in, fully clothed, and get soaked to the skin in seconds, right there in front of him? Would she--she'd make a comment, wouldn't she, something terrible like, "Need a hand?" She'd wrap her own hand around Will's cock, already soap-slippery and wet, and stroke him slowly, watching his face. All observational science has an element of voyeurism in it, and she's totally dedicated to to her work.

He slowed his pace to match the image in his head.

Oh, yeah, she would like watching him. And he would want her to watch, want her to see what she was doing to him, how he'd buck into her hand when she twisted her fingers like _that_ , how he'd catch his breath when she thumbed the head of his cock just like _this_.

He'd want her to see, more than anything, that his excitement was for _her_ , that it was all about _her_ being there. She would, too, because she's brilliant, because she feels it, too, and she'd give him a secret smile, a smile that's all about _him_.

She'd recognize, though, that he wasn't going to last long, not like this, not as good as it was. Not with her. She'd take pity on him, speed it up, firm her grip on him, watching him all the while with those bright, bright eyes, drinking in every second.

She'd say something, his name, or just give him an appreciative hum, or, god, bite her lip, and that would be it. Will closed his eyes as he came, leaning hard on the wall, breathing harshly in the steamy air.

He stayed still for a minute, letting the water wash down on him, wash everything away. Eyes still closed, he swiped the pad of his thumb over his lips for an instant of phantom pressure, greedy for that moment of closure. She'd leave him with that before she stepped away, one last reminder that he wasn't alone.

And then she'd walk out, and the noise of the shower would cover the sound of her exit.

The shower temperature dropped, making Will jump, and he opened his eyes and finished up quickly, before it slid the rest of the way down to "cold."

The towel seemed fluffy enough, but it rasped against his skin. He dried off gingerly, and was still a little damp when he dressed again, the fresh scrubs sticking to him here and there. He opened the bathroom door--and there was Magnus. Just far enough away from the door to give him some privacy, but too close to be doing anything but waiting for him. She appeared to be studying the clipboard in her hand, but Will recognized a prop when he saw one.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, chasing away a few more droplets of water, and tried to think about absolutely anything other than what he'd just been doing. She looked him over, and smiled when he wiggled his bare toes at her.

"Feel better now?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

He could drive himself crazy overanalyzing that look, but instead, he smiled back at her. "You have no idea," he said, gambling that she'd blame his flush on the hot water.


End file.
